


Suffocating on Ashes

by littleglowbug



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Flashbacks, Hale Centric, Hale Family Feels, Magic, Multi, Panic Attacks in later chapters, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:07:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleglowbug/pseuds/littleglowbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's no secret the Hale family is infamous for how fucked up it is. It's also no secret that the three remaining Hale family members, Peter, Cora, and Derek, could definitely use some therapy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this cute fluffy-little-thing spawned into a going-to-be-many-chapters-with-far-too-many-plot-twists-thing thanks to Madison aka somethingaboutsterek (on tumblr) 
> 
> please leave comments about what you think. <3 love ya, byeee

Stiles has way too much free time. It’s Christmas break (five days before the holiday itself), and he’d finished any and all homework due after the break in the first two days. So now he’s drowning in a sea of boredom, which usually leads to him thinking about things. Usually sexy things, that lead to jerking off in the shower if his dad’s home. But right now he’s thinking about Christmas shopping. Not for himself, he already knows he’s getting presents from everyone, no use buying anything more, but for the Hales (he’s considering not shopping for Peter). He’s already been shopping for his dad, Melissa, Lydia, Allison, Scott, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, but he has yet to shop for Derek and Cora. Peter, but only if he finds something that caters to his extremely, extremely particular personal likings.

After a few moments of thinking with his arm draped over his eyes, he sits up on his bed. He grabs a spare notebook and Sharpie, laying the notebook out over his sweatpant clad legs, scribbling down each of the Hale’s names in a list. He goes over gift options in his head for a minute or two, cap of the Sharpie hanging from in between his lips. After a while he just starts writing options down.

_Derek: THERAPY wolfy therapy, new and more colorful Henleys_

_Cora: Necklace?, shoes, girl things,_

At this point, Stiles pauses, because no. Cora wouldn’t like any of that. He writes her name again, ignoring the previous writing.

_Cora: Claw sharpener, anger management classes, talk with a therapist_

_Peter: ‘Become Less Creepy in 101 Steps’ book, a significant other to control him, therapy with Derek and Cora, a leash_

Stiles stared at the sloppy list and sighed. He was serious about therapy, actually. And now that he thought about it, wolfy therapy might help them. And there was bound to be a werewolf counselor somewhere around Beacon Hills since the Hale pack used to thrive in this town, right? Or a therapist who knows about werewolves and all that. Right? He shuts the notebook and stands up, ideas and situations racing through his hyperactive brain. As he thinks everything over, he walks down into the living room, calling out to his dad.

“Yeah, Stiles?” The tired response came from the kitchen table, where John was sitting, surrounded by police reports and three empty mugs of coffee. He wore his glasses and a plain grey t-shirt and plaid pajama pants.

Stiles sat across from his dad, not glancing at any of the reports like usual, which must’ve struck odd to John, for he gave Stiles his full attention. “Do you know of any really great therapists?” he asked. “Like, really, really awesome ones who could deal with a shit- sorry -load of various issues and stuff. And, um, werewolves.”

John did a double take, “Werewolves? You want a therapist who’s a… werewolf. Why?” He stared his son down, steepling his fingers.

“No! No, no, no, no. No. I want a therapist for werewolves. For. Not one. Just for.” Stiles’ voice was quick and, well, a bit panicked. Because a strange werewolf and a Hale in the same room? Not going to happen. “That would be a bad, bad thing for their trust. The Hale’s trust, I mean. To me. For me. With me?” Stiles had started mumbling after ‘to me’, and John waits out his son’s words before speaking again.

“Honestly, son, I’m not sure-” Stiles’ face fell. “but-” Stiles’ face lightened up. “My buddy, Benson Dean, his little girl’s supposed to be an amazing one. But she’s very, very specific about who she sees.” John pauses for a long while, causing Stiles to get a bit antsy, lacing his fingers together and twisting his hands. “You can look through my room. Try to find her card somewhere. If you don’t, come back and I can call Ben up and ask him myself.” Stiles grins, putting his hands on the table, about to push off and stand. “Oh, and Stiles? Why exactly are you trying to contact a therapist for the Hales?”

“Because they need to learn to trust people again. Like normal people.” Stiles says, standing up and smiling. “Have… fun. With whatever it is you’re doing.” he parts ways with his dad, leaving the man looking deeply thoughtful, heading back up the stairs, to John’s room. He flings open the door, starting his search on the dresser top, full of clutter and strewn with papers of all sizes. Stiles looks for a business card of some kind, because that’s what people with businesses make, don’t they? He happens upon four before finding one with the name Gloria A. Dean in typed cursive across the top. Under it, he notices, said one word ‘Aconite’ in small letters.

“Aconite…” Stiles paused, flicking through the files in his mind. “Wolfsbane, huh?” he murmured after a moment, looking at the number. He returned to his room, the card held in his hand. He snatched his cell phone from his nightstand after shutting the door, typing in the number depicted on the card.

Three rings later, and someone picked up. “Hello, Gloria Dean speaking, how may I help you?” the voice was… sweet, and a bit melodic. Very soothing, which was good, probably, for a possible therapist for werewolves.

“Uh- yeah, hi, I’m Stiles Stilinski and-” Stiles cleared his throat, “This is going to sound, like, really weird if you don’t actually-” he cut off, then picked up his speech again, “but, um, would you happen to, well…” he was at a loss for how to phrase ‘I need a werewolf counselor for three members of my pack’ without sounding insane.

Gloria emitted a gentle chuckle, “Is this your first time? Well, what is it, then? Just bitten? Trouble with shifting when you get hot and bothered?” there was an amused smile in her voice, but she wasn’t judging him, like, at all. Stiles liked this woman.

“No, actually. My- my friend is, um. A wolf. A werewolf, I mean.” Stiles paused, but only got a soft ‘mhm’ sound from the other line, so he kept on. “And he’s, well, actually he and his sister and uncle are all werewolves. And I’m just, I’m wondering if there’s any way I could schedule appointments for each of them.”

There was a moment’s pause. “The reasons? For your appointment, well, their appointments. What’s the reason for them?” Gloria asked.

“A hunter… a hunter kind of ruined their lives six years ago. And, well, they aren’t exactly over it.” Stiles frowned, “Or talking about it, really, and I just want them to smile again, you know? Maybe be less mentally unstable or something. Just, yeah, trust people more. Grieve and move on as much as they possibly can. It’s, um, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, and Cora Hale. The people I want to make appointments for.”

“You are a very, very good person.” Gloria compliments, and before Stiles can say thank you (or even be confused), she speaks again. “I’d like to meet you, actually. I think we could work something out, and you can make sure that you actually want my help, alright, Stiles?”

“Yeah, sounds- sounds good, actually. Where should we meet?” Stiles asked.

“My office, tomorrow at three o’clock, if you could. Just bring yourself.” Gloria said, and then went on to give him simple directions to her office, which was just outside of Beacon Hills, about ten or fifteen minutes from his house. “See you, then,” she says.

Stiles smiled brightly, “Yep, bye.” he hangs up and sets his phone and the card down.

He hoped that this Gloria girl, whoever she was, wasn't a hunter. He also hoped maybe, just maybe, having a stranger who is legally obligated to keep quiet about what's said with her, will help Derek. Cora and Peter, too, sure. But mostly... mostly Derek.  

 

Stiles looks over at his clock. It’s only eleven thirty in the morning, so Stiles has few options because chances are Scott’s not awake. He climbs out of his bed and turns on his Xbox and television, grabbing his controller and booting up Skyrim.

He plays for about four hours (which isn’t unusual) with bathroom breaks before taking a food break. He goes downstairs again, rummaging through the kitchen and returning to his room with a bottle of Dr. Pepper and a half-eaten bag of forbidden Lays chips Stiles has stashed away from his dad.

When he shuts his door, he notices his phone reads ‘5 New Messages’, all from within the six or so minutes he was downstairs. “Well something’s going on,” Stiles observes outloud, setting the food on the nightstand and scrolling through all the messages.

**_NEW MESSAGE_ **   
**_From: Scotty_ **   
**_stiles u awake?_ **

**_NEW MESSAGE_ **   
**_From: Scotty_ **   
**_stileeees wake up_ **

**_NEW MESSAGE_ **   
**_From: Scotty_ **   
**_STILES COME TO MY HOUSE IMPROMPTU PACK MEET_ **

**_NEW MESSAGE_ **   
**_From: Scotty_ **   
**_ok lydia told me not to worry u we’re just going to watch movies and stuff_ **

**_NEW MESSAGE_ **   
**_From: Scotty_ **   
_**dude duud eudueuduuduudued** _

Stiles snorts at his best friend’s attempts to wake him up. He typed out a quick reply.

_**CREATE NEW MESSAGE** _   
_**To: Scotty** _   
_**Calm down man I was just getting some food. Be there in like fifteen** _

He sets his phone down again and disappears into the bathroom to take a shower. He reemerges a few minutes later, drying his hair with one towel, another wrapped around his hips. He pads towards the dresser and changes into jeans, a graphic tee, and a red flannel.

Stiles dries his hair as best as he can, leaving it a bit damp, slipping into some socks and converse. He grabs his phone and Dr. Pepper, heading for the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one... thanks for the comments, keep em coming! they inspire me uwu

Stiles got to Scott’s house and walked in the door, not bothering to knock, figuring the wolves would know it was him. He had left his half-empty bottle of Dr. Pepper in the Jeep, greeting Scott, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd with a bright ‘hi’, before heading straight into the kitchen, not waiting for a response. He was hungry since he hadn’t actually eaten anything today, so he dug around in the cabinets for about two minutes, before emerging with a foil packet of cheap chocolate chip cookies.

After he pours himself some milk, he returns to the living room where his pack is gathered, sitting as close to each other as they can without making it uncomfortable if someone were to walk in. Stiles fell down onto a recliner, setting his glass of milk on the table next to him. “So, guys,” he says, tearing open the packaging, “what are you all getting me for Christmas?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Shut up, Stiles, none of us are telling you what we got you.” she paused for a moment. “Unless…” she smiled as Stiles leaned forwards, “unless you tell us what you’re getting Derek.”

“Yeah, Stiles, what’re you getting for our mighty angst mountain?” Erica simpered, looking conniving. It was making Stiles uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure?” Stiles tried, and to save himself from continuing, shoving two cookies into his mouth at once, chewing solemnly.

“First of all, gross, second of all, you’re a liar,” Lydia raised her perfect eyebrows and pursed her perfect lips and Stiles resisted her because he could now.

Stiles swallowed the mess of sweetness in his mouth (and wow what an innuendo that was), and took a swig of milk. “Maybe, like, some different colored Henleys? Or a therapy session. Or four.” he set the glass down again.

That drew a laugh from Erica and Scott, a chuckle from Isaac, and amused huffs or smiles from everyone else. “That wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Maybe get him both.” Isaac grins, and Stiles grins right back, because yeah. Okay. He can do that.

Everyone talks and goofs off and fucks about for a long time, and the next time Stiles is silent for more than a minute and a half, he looks at his phone’s clock.

11:09 Flashed back at him tauntingly.

“Motherfucker. It’s late, guys, I have to go. My dad’s going to rip my arms off.” Stiles stands up in a hurry, the empty foil packet falling onto the carpet, scattering crumbs everywhere. “I’m sorry, though. Text me tomorrow, Scott.” he departs then, after a litany of farewells. He practically sprints to his Jeep, pulling out of the McCall’s driveway.

He gets back to his house a few minutes later, to his dad sitting in the living room with his arms crossed. “Oh, uh, hey Dad. Sorry about being out so late-”

“I’d just like you to tell me if you’re even leaving, Stiles.” John didn’t seem angry, just a little worried. And disappointed, which, fuck, Stiles cannot deal with.

“Right-o. Will do, and sorry again,” Stiles escaped upstairs, probably saving himself from anymore downhearted looks.

Stiles changed into pajama bottoms and a thin t-shirt, falling into his bed with his laptop. He dicked around for an hour or so, scrolling through various web pages and Google searches. His eyes were drooping, which was weird because usually he was up until three or four even on school nights. He gave in eventually though, shutting his laptop off and tucking it under his bed, the light already off.

He fell back into bed, and his thoughts strayed to Derek like they usually did, to his arms and his stubble (damn him and his stubble) and his hands and ass- which is glorious actually. He wonders what it’d be like to kiss his lips, because damn they look soft, or to card his fingers through his black hair. Stiles sighed in annoyance, because thoughts like these always led to either being hard and aching until he relieves himself, or waking halfway through the night to sticky sheets. Occasionally both.

Stiles steeled his resolve, once again reminding himself not to get off to any more Derek-related fantasies.

Stiles wakes up (a more accurate term is reawakened from the dead) at noon, quite literally rolling out of bed, landing in a heap of limbs and broken dreams on the carpet. The groan Stiles let out was straight out of a bad 1970s porn film, but instead of mock-pleasure, it was from pain. He immediately went into a small kicking fit, twisting himself out of his covers, dragging himself into a standing position.

The first thing he does is trudge downstairs, eyes barely open. Sort of like a newborn kitten, but instead of looking adorable as he tries to blink back his sight, he looks sort of like a meth addict, which is great. Just what he needs. His dad isn’t home, of course he isn’t, he has to work overtime the few days before Christmas in order to have the holiday itself off.

Stiles half collapses into the kitchen, bracing a hand against the countertop. His mind suddenly strays to the glamorous way celebrities in television shows wake up, and he dissolves into tired, half-assed laughter. What he would give to be in a TV show.

Now that he thinks about it, his life would sell pretty well. Hyperactive kid with a werewolf best friend and a massive gay boner for the resident fucked-up hottie?

 _Although,_ he thinks, _isn’t that the plot of that series Twilight or something?_

He laughs at his own joke, opening his fridge, eyeing the contents. Findings: jackshit. He groans like an anguished pornstar once again.

 _This is shit, I want some damn food. And I don’t want to go grocery shopping. Maybe I’ll just make a salad dressing and milk smoothie,_ Stiles crinkled his nose in disgust at that thought. _Definitely no._

Stiles moves to check the cupboards, again discovering nothing that sounds appealing to him at the moment. In an act of extreme melodramaticism, he bangs his head against the wall once, rather hard, too. Pain shoots through his head, and a litany of ‘why the fuck’ and ‘I’m an idiot’ echo in his jumbled thoughts until he regains his composure, looking around to make absolute certain no one saw what just happened.

And then Stiles realized that he was alone, and an idiot.

Wasn’t that just the story of his life?

Stiles huffed, and went back upstairs, deciding to get some food after he meets up with the mysterious Gloria in two and a half hours.

One shower (which included jerking off, because fuck you that’s why) later, Stiles was standing in a towel, staring into his closet.

He was considering his options, which included plaid, graphic tees, and... Plaid. He makes a mental note to have Lydia take him shopping at some point, because god damn he has a lot of plaid. He wondered then if he should just dress like he normally does, and eventually decides why the hell not, and changes into a graphic tee. He was really concerned now, about the amount of plaid he had, as he glanced once again into his closet, and maybe he was overreacting, but how did he fall so deep into plaid shirts?

 _Damn.. I have such a weird conscious._ Stiles thinks, pulling on some boxers and dark jeans. He spends a few seconds adjusting his shirt, before turning and walking back into the bathroom, grabbing another towel and drying his hair, dropping it carelessly onto the tile floor. He washes his face and brushes his teeth, wandering back to his laptop to fuck around until two thirty when he was leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> already started on the thirdddd. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow im sorry it's so short im sick

Stiles ends up leaving at two forty five, in a show of true Stiles-esque behavior, and speeds down the streets. There weren’t a lot of turns, the directions just leading straight towards the edge of town, where few buildings were.

But, there was one, obviously Gloria’s office, that stood out. It was a small structure, simple with pale brown bricks lining the bottom, and white siding the rest of the way around. The parking lot surrounding the office was cracked and faded, a stark contrast to the quaint building. Stiles pulled up and parked in one of the faded yellow parking spaces, checking his phone. It was just a few minutes past three, and he swore softly, exiting the car.

He hurries into the building, pausing at the front desk,which was unoccupied, but someone had been sitting there recently, little pictures taped to the computer monitor, and a still steaming coffee mug placed next to the mousepad..

"Um.. Excuse me?" Stiles called out after about five minutes, furrowing his eyebrows and peeking further over the desk.

"I'm so sorry about that, my assistant is out on a late lunch, I'm afraid. You must be Stiles!" The newcomer smiled, her cherry red lips pulling back in a friendly smile to reveal white teeth. Stiles doesn’t speak, gaping and staring at the woman before him. Her hair is curly and falls just past her shoulders, framing her pale, heart shaped face perfectly. She is shorter than Stiles by about six inches, but probably more if she weren’t wearing tall black heels. Her legs were bare up to her mid thigh, where the hem of her sea green dress ended, casting a shadow over the milky skin. A brown leather jacket covers her torso, open to reveal a matching belt pulled snugly to her waist. Her eyeliner makes her blue eyes pop, and long eyelashes cast shadows over high cheekbones. Her nose is narrow and probably a little too small for her face, but Stiles didn’t really pay that much attention to it.

Stiles was reminded of Erica right after she was turned, and also now. Hard and confident, but also gentle and kind-looking. Approachable, and beautiful, just like Erica is now.

He realized that Gloria had just been staring at him, just as he was her, but with more intensity, and her mouth was closed, tugged into a smirk. “Uh, oh, yeah. I’m Stiles- yep. Stiles.” he draws out the vowels as he repeats his name. “And you must be-”

“Gloria, yes,” she smiles again, and opens the door to her voice, ushering him in. “Please take a seat on the couch or one of the chairs.” she requests, shutting the door behind her and crossing over to sit at her desk. Her office was simple, personalized with picture frames containing photographs of her and friends, and who Stiles assumed to be her father, and one of a little girl with short blonde hair holding onto a tall woman who resembled Gloria's, probably her mother, leg. They were both smiling widely.

“That your mom?” Stiles asks on a whim, pointing to the picture.

Gloria laces her fingers together and clenches her hands, “Uh yes, it is. She died in a car crash when I was thirteen.” she answers, eyes boring into Stiles’.

“That...sucks. My mom died when I was eight. Cancer.” Stiles replies, leaning back in his seat. “So, um, about those appointments I want to schedule…”

Gloria allowed the subject change, nodding. “Yes, about those,” she motioned for Stiles to talk, smiling again.

“Well, I was wondering if there was some special Christmas deal, like a ‘wow your lives are shitty, here have some therapy’ deal?” Stiles questions.

“No, there isn’t one currently, but I’ll tell you what… each member of the family gets a free session with me, alright? If they like them, then they can schedule others on their own.” Gloria says, and continues when Stiles opens his mouth to speak, “The sessions will be scheduled for December 23rd, two days before Christmas, at noon for Cora, one thirty for Derek, and three for Peter.” As she spoke, she was filling out appointment cards. “Please, for the love of God, give them this when they’re alone. Don’t corner them when your pack, assuming you have more members, is around.”

Stiles stared at Gloria, in awe, before nodding and taking the offered cards, “Right, yeah, okay. Good- good idea.” he stands up, “Well, I’m going to go now, so, bye.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Stilinski.” Gloria sounded amused, but Stiles didn’t bother to delve into that, escaping the building, eager to give the Hales the cards and get his ass to a diner for some food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing chap four as you read this note hi hello


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been 6,000 years but i am ready to pursue this work once again
> 
> i'm really sorry that's it's been a year-and-a-fucking half honestly i'm gonna try to write more this summer i'm so sorry
> 
> but to make up for my disappearance have this longer chapter w/ derek and cora's appointments !! (if anyone's even interested in this story anymore lol i'm so sorry)

Stiles doesn't know how in the holy hell he is going to give the Hales the coupons for therapy with Gloria. He feels like just handing them to the family would get him his arms ripped from his body, so he just doesn't do that, instead waiting until three days before Christmas (otherwise deemed Pack Gift Giving Day) to hand the small cards to each Hale. He does it quietly and eyes the wolves' reactions carefully and cautiously. Cora probably looks the most offended, but Stiles watches her eyes sink into defeat, muttering a quiet thanks to Stiles before shoving him in the shoulder and watching him slam into the pantry door. Stiles salutes her as she exits the kitchen, rubbing the shoulder Cora's hand had slammed into, grumbling in annoyance to himself. 

"You deserved much more than that, Stiles." Peter's voice floats from the kitchen archway. "I'm not too sure Cora enjoyed having it be implied she needed professional help. From a human, nonetheless. In fact, I don't think I enjoy that implication too much, Stilinski," a sharp grin, full of malicious intent and anger, flashes across Peter's features. It disappears as quick as it came, and the man backs the lankier boy into the pantry door. "I'll go if only to humor you, Stiles. I refuse to talk with a therapist. I may need it, but not from a stranger." 

A choking sound of agreement tumbles out of Stiles' lips and Peter smirks, satisfied. He backs away and brushes off the front of Stiles' atrocious flannel mess of a shirt. Gliding away from Stiles, he brushes past Derek, who doesn't even look bothered. Derek had taken it the best, simply sighing and agreeing to go to the session reluctantly.

"Hi Derek," Stiles greets, lifting a hand in a half-assed wave. 

"Stiles," Derek doesn't quite smile at him, but there's a definite uptick of his lips. "What did Peter want?"

"Piss off, I know you heard everything he said to me, Wolfman," Stiles teased, pushing away from the pantry and brushing past Derek to get to the fridge, opening it while Derek begins to speak. 

"I don't exactly agree with your method of approach to the whole situation, you know. But, I will admit, maybe we could benefit from this." His voice is cautious and measured, like he's afraid of Stiles' reaction. Psht, it's almost as if he expects Stiles to jump up and down in rejoice. 

Stiles turns sharply to look at Derek, grinning widely. "You will! I swear, Gloria is so nice! She's really easy to talk to, you know, and she smells nice. I'm serious, okay? You'll love her, I promise!" he's still smiling brightly, but it fades when he catches the look of doubt in Derek's eyes. "Trust me, Derek. You'll like her." 

"I trust you, but I think you have too much confidence in this human girl." Derek says shortly, turning on his hell and stalking out of the kitchen. Stiles frowns and turns back to the fridge, shutting it without grabbing anything out of it. He'd forgotten what he wanted anyways, so it doesn't really matter. He stares at the bumpy white surface of the fridge for several moments, wallowing for a bit in self doubt and massive amounts of regret. 

God, he hopes Gloria can actually help them.

* * *

 

Cora stares at the clock on the wall. It's digital, she notes. She appreciates already that this woman understands how fucking obnoxious ticking clocks are. The red numbers change to 12:00PM and the door to the human girl's office opens immediately, drawing Cora's full attention to the newcomer. At that exact moment the sound of the other woman's heartbeat enters her auditory range. 

"Are your walls soundproof?" Cora asks suspiciously, her metaphorical hackles raised and eyes a bright shade of yellow. What if this woman plans to kill her? 

The blonde nods with an amused huff, "Yes, they are. I had them soundproofed so if a wolf is out here, they cannot hear what I'm talking about with my clients. I value privacy, of course. And I do know that sometimes the person that one of my clients brings along is part of the problem, and if they're a wolf then they may overhear something and come tearing into my office. And possibly tear into _me_ , as well." 

Cora narrows her eyes, but is completely relaxed by the time she finishes speaking. Gloria is smiling at Cora, and the smile reminds her of when Laura used to help Cora get through full moons. The thought makes her heart hurt, but at the same time Cora can't help but smile a tiny bit, standing up. She walks over to Gloria and stands a bit closer than humans tend to be, but the blonde doesn't seem bothered at all. Cora takes a deep breath through her noise, breathing in the therapist's scent. Strawberry and vanilla shampoo and coconut body wash. Fresh linen. A faint scent of sugar cookies underlying it all. In addition there's the sweet scent of amusement and developing fondness. 

It makes Cora antsy, because she trusts this woman. She wants to talk to her. She kind of wants to rub her hand down her neck and make sure other wolves know not to hurt her. It's sort of like when she first met Stiles, except with him the smell of Derek was already all over him. This is new and strange.

"Well, shall we go in?" Gloria opens the door further and ushers Cora into her office. The interior smells of Gloria but also lavender air freshener. If Cora focuses and pushes past the scented mist, she can catch momentary wisps of other people. Stiles, specifically. Cora shakes her head and takes a seat on the couch as Gloria takes one across from her in a comfy looking leather chair. "So, Cora, why are you here?" 

"Stiles forced me-" 

"You know what I mean," Gloria fixates the younger girl with a stare that almost makes Cora want to bare her neck. 

Cora still manages to snort, though, regardless if she wants to cower under Gloria's gaze. "My entire family is dead. The only two blood relatives left are my emotionally detached brother Derek and my unhinged uncle Peter. Peter killed my sister, Laura. Derek's ex burnt my house down, which is why my whole family is dead. Derek still blames himself and Peter uses that to manipulate him," The words just... keep coming out of Cora's mouth. "And Derek tries his best? Like, he's so fucked up, more than the rest of us, but he's still hanging in there for us. He's a good Alpha, okay? I don't care what he thinks, I don't care how many times other packs try and insinuate he's not. He's a good Alpha and a good brother. And Peter has his faults but he's... he's valuable to have around. He's smart and cunning and his lack of humanity helps put things in perspective sometimes. 

They both do so much, right? They, like, they've earned their place. I just showed up. I abandoned my family. For years and years and years and they thought I was fucking dead and I knew they thought I was dead. I knew it, but I let them think that. I let them grieve me even though I was alive. I caught wind of shit hitting the fan in Beacon Hills, okay? So I came back. I came back and now I realize nothing would change if I were gone. In fact, I wasn't even here for a week before I was kidnapped. No one even knew I was back! Except that bastard Alpha pack. They knew, of course they knew! They tried to kill everyone. They hurt Erica and Boyd and-" The taste of copper and tears in her mouth stops her word flow. She blinks and feels two tears drop onto her lap, followed by dribbles of blood. She'd cut her tongue after shifting in the middle of her myriad of emotions. The sight of her own blood falling onto her hands made her chest tighten dangerously.

If given a few more seconds to wallow, she would have probably broken down and clawed up everything around her. But before she even slipped over the edge of awareness, the feel of cloth on her chin brought her back to reality. She stared down at Gloria as she knelt in front of Cora, dabbing a handkerchief against her skin. The slice on her tongue had healed already, so Cora brings her hands up shakily, allowing Gloria to scrub the blood from her skin. She looks to the clock, the number 1:00PM glaring back at her. The very scent of Gloria is comforting, and Cora lets the tension bleed out from her shoulders, slumping over slightly.

"Do me a favor, Cora?" Gloria says.

"Anything."

"Mention to your pack that I didn't come at you with a knife or anything." Gloria chuckles.

And Cora laughed, too.

* * *

 

Derek had seen Cora briefly after her session with Gloria, eyes flaring red at the scent of blood before Cora explained that she bit her tongue while telling Gloria a story. Now he's sitting in Gloria's office, staring across the room at the blonde girl. Cora had mentioned the comforting scent of her after telling him she'd scheduled another appointment, and Derek had to admit, she did smell very nice. But he refuses to let himself be fooled by a pretty face and kind eyes again. 

They've been staring at each other for no less than ten minutes, and Gloria's gaze hasn't faltered once. Finally, the awkward silence becomes suffocating, and Derek speaks up, "Aren't you going to say anything?" His voice sounds foreign to him, actually. Almost like it doesn't belong here. 

"Not unless you have something to say in return. As much as I love my own voice, I know Stiles wanted you to talk to me about your lack of grieving." Gloria takes in Derek's suddenly twice as rigid posture and lets out a puff of breath, "We don't have to talk about that right now, though. What's your favorite book?" 

The question definitely catches Derek off-guard. But, it's an easy question to reply to, "The, uh, the Harry Potter series." 

Gloria's laughter also catches him off guard, and he's startled by the fact that he has a sudden urge to smile along with her bright giggles. "You know, surprisingly enough, those are my favorite books, as well. I love how at the beginning of the series it starts out innocent, like Harry, and as Harry's world is filled with darkness, so is the writing. The only thing- the only damn thing -that I cannot deal with is Fred's death. I ignore it completely most of the time. Pretend it didn't even happen." 

Derek's interest is sparked. Spirited conversation about the Harry Potter series is something he's not had the pleasure of since his family was alive. "I, uh, yeah... I do that, too. Ignore it, I mean. I ignore a lot of that series, actually." 

"Sometimes I rewrite bits of it in my head so it fits my ideals better!" Gloria gives Derek a bright smile and the corner of Derek's mouth lifts into a half smile. 

Derek and Gloria talk about Harry Potter for the entirety of the appointment. Gloria doesn't push Derek to talk about what happened, doesn't even hint to it, but he knows she would graciously accept a subject change if Derek feels comfortable enough. The thing is, though, Derek still doesn't feel like he really wants to let this girl in. She seems kind and caring but Derek's walls are still firmly intact. But, he does enjoy talking to Gloria, so he decides to schedule another appointment. 

As Derek is about to leave, he has a sudden thought and turns back to Gloria, shutting the door so they're both sealed in the room, "My uncle, Peter," Derek begins, and Gloria seems shocked that he mentions something not Harry Potter related, but she quickly conceals her feelings. "He's not a good person. He's manipulative and clever and he's going to either not show up or he's gonna convince you he's totally average. You can't let him fool you, okay? He's really charming, too. Just-- be careful, okay? Cora likes you a lot and I don't need Peter to mess it up for her. You're good for her." 

"I'll be fine. And it seems I'm good for you, as well. Considering you just said--" she pauses, "--seven sentences to me, which is the most you've said this whole time." Gloria's only half-joking. She's most nervous to meet the infamous Peter Hale, a tight knot of worry twisting up inside of her. She hopes she has some time to meditate before Peter's appointment, so he can't smell the wariness on her. "Honestly, Derek, I will be alright." 

"If he messes with you, come find me and tell me. I'll deal with him." Derek says and, before giving Gloria any time at all to retort, leaves. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> next chapter should be posted by friday or so? maybe saturday. depends how my week is.


End file.
